Conversing in Riva
by Aerlalaith
Summary: A common conversation in Riva. (Includes arguing, pleading, glaring and begging) Features: Silk, Garion, Ce'nedra and Belgarath.


Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to David and Leigh Eddings. No money is made, no copyright infringement is intended.

**Conversing in Riva**

"I'm not going to buy the whole bean crop from you Silk."

"But Garion . . . ."

"No Silk."

"But . . . ."

"No!"

Prince Kheldar of Drasnia looked as if he were on the edge of agony, as he pleaded shamelessly with his friend.

"Garion, it is just a favor to . . . well . . . a dear friend! Please, please do this!" Silk had passed the edge of agony and was now well within it's borders. A place he was quite familiar with.

"That dear friend being you of course," Garion stated.

"You do not consider me a friend?" Silk asked, trying a different track and attempting to sound hurt. _You can never go wrong with guilt_, he reasoned.

The King of Riva snorted and looked out the window, noticing that it was one of those rare days in Riva when it wasn't raining or overcast. He sighed, it was hailing instead.

"Garion . . . ." Silk looked truly pathetic.

"Silk."

"Yes?" Kheldar asked hopefully.

"No."

"Why not?"

Garion was beginning to get irritated, a family trait that he had inherited and showed signs of in his early years. "Because it's not the best course of action, that's why."

"When did that ever stop you?" Silk eyed his friend warily. "You are beginning to sound as if you are older then Belgarath."

Garion choked and looked at Silk through narrowed eyes. "Did you just compare my age as to older then that of The Eternal Man?

Silk's Drasnian instincts kicked in, also known as lying tactics. "No," he said smoothly. "I merely said that you are acting like a stuffy old man."

Garion's look turned alarmingly similar to that of a street thug about to commit murder

"Hmm . . . ." Silk said slightly nervously (it was not after all, usually in one's best interest to insult the Godslayer). " Perhaps not the best choice of words to use."

"What was not the best choice of words to use?" Ce'nedra asked, stepping into the room and carrying a cup of tea and a book.

Silk could just see the title: Money: its Assets and its Origins. He brightened, "Ce'nedra?"

"Yes?"

"May I borrow that book when you're done with it?"

"Only if you return it."

"Ce'nedra!" He protested. "How could you ever suspect me of such a thing?"

Her gaze coolly locked with his. "I _know_ you Silk."

Silk had no answer for this, so he wisely kept silent and became extremely fascinated with the weather that was happening outside the window of Garion's apartments. He was knocked back into reality with Ce'nedra's repeated question

"Garion dear."

"Yes?" he growled.

She shook her head, "What exactly did Kheldar say to make you act like a crotchety old man?"

Garion's eyes jerked up at her in disbelief, while Silk tried to hold in his laughter.

Garion glared at the both of them and was trying to formulate an answer that would maintain his dignity (and make Silk loose his), when Belgarath walked in.

"Hello Garion, hello Silk, hello Ce'nedra."

"Hello Grandfather," Garion replied automatically.

"Garion . . . do you have anything to drink? Poledra poured my secret store of ale down the drain this morning."

"There's some wine on the table."

Belgarath snorted, "I was thinking more along the lines of ale, but that'll have to do."

"Garion dear, you haven't answered my question,l" Ce'nedra persisted.

"Silk compared me to Belgarath." Garion said stiffly

The Eternal Man raised an eyebrow, "And that is bad because . . . ."

"He compared my age to you, Grandfather," Garion said, sounding pained.

"_What_?" Belgarath turned his steely glare onto Silk. "You compared a whelp like him to me?"

"Grandfather!" Garion protested.

"Quiet, Garion!" Belgarath said sharply. "If anyone is going to be angry over this, it is going to be me."

Garion mumbled something as he stood up from his chair.

"Garion dear, where are you going?"

"To find Barak," he replied, "And to get away from Silk."

"Now Garion, that's is going entirely to far . . . ." But the King of Riva had already stomped from the room. Silk sighed and locked eyes with Ce'nedra, who shook her head.

"He really is rather sensitive these days. Just give him some time, you might yet get what you want."

Belgarath, was still fuming in the chair he had sat in, his patched cloths at odds with the royal surroundings and the many rings that glittered on Silk's hands. He took a sip of wine and made a face of disgust. "Barak has some better ale then this wine, I'm sure of it." He stood up, opened the door and stormed out. The other two stared after him.

"We must remember," Silk said, after a moment "They _are_ after all, related."

Ce'nedra threw him a look of disdain, and looked to be formulating a lecture (a skill that she had learned very well from Polgara). Silk hastily stood up, made some excuse about business that even he didn't believe for a second, and quietly exited the room as well.

Prince Kheldar of Drasnia stood in the hallway outside of the royal apartments, at loss with what to do with himself. Then, he grinned and headed of to the wing of the place that hosted the visitors from Cherek.

A/N So, what did you think? This was my first attempt at Eddings' fanfiction. All reviews are loved very much. Also, I have just edited this fic. Hopefully it makes more sense and is easier to read now. Thanks for the reviews!


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